


'till my back ain't got no bones

by redbrunja



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn with Feelings, Post-Movie(s), Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4510899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/pseuds/redbrunja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max only got one of her belts off before he lost patience, peeled her trousers down and pushed his face between her thighs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'till my back ain't got no bones

Max only got one of her belts off before he lost patience, peeled her trousers down and pushed his face between her thighs. Furiosa hooked her strong legs over his shoulders, her right heel pressing encouragingly against his back.

 

He knelt at the side of her bed, the end of her sleeping pallet pressing into his belly, his cock hard in his pants.  The position put tension on his bad knee. It throbbed dully, matching the beat of his pulse, the pressure in his cock.

 

Furiosa was so soft against his mouth, slick and responsive. She twisted and shuddered under him, her calloused heels scraping down his scarred and tattooed back.

 

A room of her own, a locked door, and when she came, his name was a whisper, like she didn't want anyone to overhear.

 

Furiosa shifted back and he let her legs shrug off his shoulders. Palms flat on the sleeping pallet, he rose, crawled to her side.

 

They kissed, slow.  Furiosa kissed carefully, and Max wasn't the person she was being careful with. She started with gentle, light brushes of her lips against his, deepening their kisses after a time, and then eased away, shifting her weight back, checking that she _could_ get away from him. She returned, slung a leg over his hip and arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest. And then she kissed him, hard, devouring, like he'd taken something of hers and she wanted it _back_. Max liked it when she kissed him like that.

 

After a time, she tugged off his shirt, her fingers warm and gentle as she mapped the planes and dips of his chest. She found the newest scars and freshest bruises, traced them lightly. He pressed into her touch.

 

She unfastened his pants and shoved the fabric far enough down his thighs to free his dick. His boots, the knee brace - the fabric wouldn't go further than halfway down his thighs, hobbling him. It would be hard to run, half-undressed like that. He didn't want to, couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be, but the thought came automatically.

 

He rolled onto his back, Furiosa over him. He felt hazy, almost drugged, but without the subterranean , muzzy fear that accompanied real narcotics or heavy blood loss. She pinned his wrists (cool metal and hot skin) to the bed next to his hips. He tugged against her hold reflexively. Her grip held firm. He realized what she was doing.

 

Max made a questioning noise deep in his throat.

 

She nodded, lowered her head.

 

Her wet mouth, the barest hint of teeth. Max groaned as she tipped her head,  adjusting to him.

 

She ran her tongue around the head of his cock, agonizingly gently, and he shifted his hips, desperate to chase after her mouth. She nuzzled and licked, slow and methodical. If he hadn't already been mad, this would drive him there. He didn't realize how hard he was tugging at her hands until she lifted her head.

 

 

She waited until he met her eyes. Max forced himself to still. He licked his bottom lip, nodded at Furiosa. She waited another moment, her blue-green eyes searching his face, checking that he was with her, willing. Then she shifted her grip on his wrists, getting a firm grasp, and took him in her mouth again.

 

She ran her tongue along his erection, sucked gently at the head of his dick. He made a helpless noise, deep in his throat, as her mouth enveloped him, hot and wet. When she retreated, the air felt shocking cool on his spit-slick skin.

 

"Please," he said, barely aware that he spoke, his balls heavy, tucked tight against his body. His breath was loud in his ears.

 

Furiousa increased the tempo of her motions, faster, harder, taking him deeper, trusting him to keep his hips still, even now, even as the world reduced to the pressure in his cock, Furiosa's mouth, her grip on his wrists. Nothing else existed.

 

He shuddered as he came.

 

Furiosa sat back, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Max pushed himself up, touched the edge of her jaw, tilting her face towards his. He kissed her. Soft lips, the bitter-salt taste of his come. Max licked into her mouth, bit softly at her bottom lip.

 

She relaxed against him, incrementally. Her hands returned to his wrists, but resting gentle now, quiet.

 

They kissed until he was hard again. He rolled her onto her back, her thighs opening to him, her strong legs wrapping around his waist. He entered her easy and slow, feeling every pulse, every flutter of her around his cock. He rocked against her, barely moving at all, just a gentle slide, just enough to make her breath hitch, just enough to have her talking. The briefest bits of praise - _mmmm, that's good, Max, oh, there, that's...._ her back arching, breasts pressing against his chest as she crested, as she climaxed.

 

 

~~~~~~

 

He tossed his rucksack into the passenger seat, the Citadel’s garage cool and shadowed in the luminous predawn light. These days he was driving a car he’d taken from a trio of Gas Town boys who hadn’t known what they’d had and hadn’t known how to keep it. The longest he’d managed to stay at the Citadel was the hundred and thirty days it had taken to get it back into shape, ripping out all the dragging “improvements” that had been inflicted on it, rewiring and repairing. Now, it was low-slung and deadly. Something that belonged to the road, just like him.

 

Furiosa had walked with him down to the garages, her footsteps measured and sure at his side. Now, she was looking out the mouth of the garage, at the red rock of the Citadel’s other outcroppings and the luminous grey sky.

 

“You,” he started. _Stay alive._ Tempting fate, and insulting.

 

He looked out at the desert. “I’ll…” He’d never been able to keep his promises., especially the ones he’d made to-

 

...He'd never been able to keep his promises.

 

Max cleared his throat, glanced back at her.

 

Furiosa nodded solemnly. She turned pointedly to the war boys manning the lift. They got the hint and there was a sudden flurry of activity that involved Not Looking at Imperator Furiosa and her madman from the wastes.

 

She took advantage of that odd privacy, her left arm at his shoulder, the fingers of her right hooking around his waistband, shockingly cool against the tender skin of his hip. She kissed him, kissed him like the fury she was named for, demanding and unrestrained. He pushed his body against hers, lost in the feel of her strength, in her pushing back,  blood and sinew and indomitable will.

 

When she shifted back, he chased after her mouth. He nipped gently at her bottom lip and Furiosa shivered. He felt her fingers tighten, where she gripped his belt and the waist of his jeans, and then she stepped back.

 

She walked over to oversee the boys operating the lift while he drove his car forward. Dawn came as he descended, the sunlight spilling over the horizon, racing across the desert, the sand blazing into ruddy color, the eastern sky matching it with vivid pinks that bled into clear blues as he looked westward.

 

Max squinted against the brightness and shifted where his hands rested on the steering wheel. His right wrist wore a perfect imprint of Furiosa's prosthetic hand, deep purple and clearly delineated. The bruising on his other arm was patchier, mottled, and he made sure that he placed his left hand so he could easily see where Furiosa's nails had left little red crescents in the underside of his wrist. 


End file.
